I am going to boldly admit I am guilty of being an "online dater" who uses a profile on a FREE dating site to help ease the "lonley" moments... Meeting people online is nothing new for me and nothing I am embarrased or ashamed to admit. Ever since the dialup AOL craze, when I sat down fighting busy signal after busy signal until I finally heard the cyber dude loudly proclaim, " You've got mail," I have been comfortable chatting, emailing and meeting random people. In fact, I am probably tenured enough to write an " Online Dating for Dummies" manuscript or travel around the country giving lectures on the dos and don't of the internet dating culture... LOL.
Yes, I have most certainly had some extremely memorable moments throughout the years.
Garreth... the drunken guy who was pretty cool until I had to kick him to the curb for proclaiming his love for me after 3 whole dates. No, not like he slipped up an I love you after a great orgasm... but the whole down on the knee, tears and codependent eyes. I gave him the night to sober up, but the next day the love song continued...
Kelso... the Buddhist who had a life experiment which was never to own a cell phone, answering machine or caller id device. This was a guy I knew was clingy from the jump, so I ran him off a few times. Then I rejoined the site after ceasing a fling with good ol Davie the downer a couple weeks ago and there he was, proclaiming his respect and happiness to see me again... so I gave him a call on his landline. Then I called him and invited him to meet me at a Christmas Eve bonfire and he informed me he was antisocial, which is CLEARLY STATED on my profile as a dealbreaker... so I told him that was too bad, good luck and goodbye. I got the fatal attraction vibe when he blew my phone up, leaving drunken voicemails, crying and acting a total fool. Deleted his account on the site and did the drama routine better than a Barbie, but hey, some chicks dig that psycho style so I'm sure he will be fine in a few days.
Hell, I'll even bring up Billy, the blue eyed blondie I had crushed on in junior high that found me on POF and set my heart on fire. Billy, who I loved after 3 months of excitement and who broke my heart right around last New Years Eve. Billy, the man I self destructed over, the man I took time to get over because he was the first man I loved in my adult life. Hooked up w a chick he met on the same goddam site, with a pic up of me and him that he just blacked my face out of. The replacement bimbo had fake titties, a fancy car and money but NONE of the same set of skills he had become accostomed to from "your's truly" in the bedroom... So we shared him for a bit, until her snooping led to discovery of texts between us about hot sex and led to a blowup involving the cops...drama and a bleeding heart on this tough girl. He taught me things about myself I am thankful to have learned... and his random emails tell me ( and his overly insecure fake booby lady ) that while I am over him, he still thinks about me... lol.
Now I will get to the main subject of this blog... Mister 50 himself, Keith...
Talk about a collassal douchebag!! I'm 31, he's 50... I told him not interested the last profile around, then decided maybe I'd give it a shot this time since my goal is to find someone who gets me, who's fun and who I can be comfortable with and not worry about jealousy or insecurity from him over insignificance. Right away, he came off as a bit too forceful, and his controlling and dellusional expectations seemed to show up outta thin air. Met up with him for a couple of hours and hit it off conversationally, planned a dinner the next night, and when I modified it to drinks instead, all hell broke loose! I wish I could post the entire text conversation for amusement purposes! Battles between rational and irrational are clearly won by facts, not daggers thrown without intelligence. He blew my phone up with so many pointless messages that it actually had to be reset 4 times... then after I told him to pound pavement a.k.a. FUCK OFF, he still kept his macho ignorance going to the point of sitting at Chuys expecting me to actually go and meet him!!! . I should have sent a replacement date for him, one he wouldn't have enjoyed much considering it wasn't a female, but when you act an ass, you run the risk of an unpleasent meeting... however, my style was to write about it so others could see what kind of people you meet in the world and have a damn good laugh at the expense of someone who well earned the award as " Biggest DUMBASS ever to cross the path of a woman whose wits outweigh his ego and who hit his bullshit back at him in a way that puts him out there as a blog topic, dating nightmare, fool and chuavinist ass.
Stay tuned for other tales of internet dating expoloits... I think it's time to get the good ones, bad ones, fun ones, and lasting ones out there for the entertainment value. Thanks Keith, for making this a blog and a fun way to blast your ass as the douchebag you are. To be continued...
Monday, December 26, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
I finally get it... well some of IT anyway...
I have learned more about myself and life in general in the last few months than the last 10 years. After recently grasping the concept of not running my mouth, I can say I think I now understand what i've been missing all along. Adults differ from adolescents by wealth of experience such as the following random examples:
Gossip causes unwanted consequences and is basic fuel for insecure egos.
Employment is a Godsend.
The majority of humanity is selfish.
Liars don't know HOW to tell the truth.
It is OKAY to be alone.
Jealousy is more toxic to relationships than a head on collision with a semi truck.
Ex boyfriends who talk shit about your children will always be douchebags.
The losers you used to party with in the shack by the alley are STILL losers.
Church is actually a great place to be if the pastor's wearing blue jeans.
AND.................
NO MATER HOW LITTLE WE MAY HAVE, WE SHOULD GIVE IT AWAY WHEN WE CAN. Even if it's just our place in line at Walmart to the lil elderly lady juggling 2 gallons of Bluebell.
Gossip causes unwanted consequences and is basic fuel for insecure egos.
Employment is a Godsend.
The majority of humanity is selfish.
Liars don't know HOW to tell the truth.
It is OKAY to be alone.
Jealousy is more toxic to relationships than a head on collision with a semi truck.
Ex boyfriends who talk shit about your children will always be douchebags.
The losers you used to party with in the shack by the alley are STILL losers.
Church is actually a great place to be if the pastor's wearing blue jeans.
AND.................
NO MATER HOW LITTLE WE MAY HAVE, WE SHOULD GIVE IT AWAY WHEN WE CAN. Even if it's just our place in line at Walmart to the lil elderly lady juggling 2 gallons of Bluebell.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Blogging about... BLOGGING
I have decided that today's writing submission will be about my own NOVICE entry into the world wide wonder of the " Blogging Realm."
In the true spirit of keeping shit simple, my day to day articles here will merely consist of words I allow to freely flow, rather than continuously remind myself that I do not exsist amongst the ranks of the veteran artsy/literary types who know what they are doing when it comes to subjects and submissions. I have no anecdotes of personal greatness to pad my pieces with... no actual experience blogging professionally, no college degree and, at the moment, no TRUE hope that any of what I write will become more than just another forgotten and deleted piece of cyber history. After all, I have nothing much to offer except a true passion for writing which has grown rusty through the years and an abundance of experiences throughout my lifetime that I KNOW someone, somewhere can relate to.
And so... I sit here... click clacking away on this keyboard.
My current resume sits on a patio table on the back porch with cigarette burns in it, which doesn't bother me much considering I HATE that cluster of papers anyway. Do I REALLY need to wave around a stapled stack of nonsense in a desperate attempt to prove to some jackass I am a consistent and hard working hustlerette? My pride has been broken as of late, my ego bruised and my belief in myself diminished almost to the point of non exsistense. I have been dealing with it by turning to this laggard computer and piecing my words together like a puzzle.
I must confess, my own utter stupidity and over indulgence in the last 8 months has led me to the place in life I dwell today. I don't know where I'm going, what I'm doing or when the clouds will dissipate, so at this particular point in time I think I will JUST KEEP WRITING.
In the true spirit of keeping shit simple, my day to day articles here will merely consist of words I allow to freely flow, rather than continuously remind myself that I do not exsist amongst the ranks of the veteran artsy/literary types who know what they are doing when it comes to subjects and submissions. I have no anecdotes of personal greatness to pad my pieces with... no actual experience blogging professionally, no college degree and, at the moment, no TRUE hope that any of what I write will become more than just another forgotten and deleted piece of cyber history. After all, I have nothing much to offer except a true passion for writing which has grown rusty through the years and an abundance of experiences throughout my lifetime that I KNOW someone, somewhere can relate to.
And so... I sit here... click clacking away on this keyboard.
My current resume sits on a patio table on the back porch with cigarette burns in it, which doesn't bother me much considering I HATE that cluster of papers anyway. Do I REALLY need to wave around a stapled stack of nonsense in a desperate attempt to prove to some jackass I am a consistent and hard working hustlerette? My pride has been broken as of late, my ego bruised and my belief in myself diminished almost to the point of non exsistense. I have been dealing with it by turning to this laggard computer and piecing my words together like a puzzle.
I must confess, my own utter stupidity and over indulgence in the last 8 months has led me to the place in life I dwell today. I don't know where I'm going, what I'm doing or when the clouds will dissipate, so at this particular point in time I think I will JUST KEEP WRITING.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Friendship Lacks Merit in Society Today
Definition of Friend:
a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.
a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter:
I won't call anyone in particular out here... and even I did, that person or persons wouldn't ever know. After all, why should they feel obligated to donate their precious and valuable time to the meaningless task of taking an active interest in something that benefits them in no obvious way? It amazes me how selfish certain people can be, and how blind they are to the feelings and needs of others. I have listened to every justification imaginable, every excuse in the book. Yet I still believe in overlooking character flaws because every single human being has them and we all deserve a break.
I sent links to my brand new blog to about 200 people. I didn't expect many to give a damn. But the few of my "core" friends who I hoped would actually care have not even pretended to give a shit.
I'll get over it. I always do.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
WORLD, YOU CAN WAIT!!!!
It started yesterday afternoon with the innocent ringing of a cell phone.
"Hey girl," said the fake voice on the other end of the line. A few more seconds exchanging fraudulent pleasantries back and forth passed before my "boss," ( bitchy bar owner,) informs me she has decided to let me go. No reasons given except it just wasn't "working out." Never mind the fact that I busted my ass trying to please her and keep up with her ever changing policies on ridiculous shit such as when it was ACCEPTABLE to ice down the beer or when it was a MORTAL SIN. Apparently the law of physics concerning ice machines and their productivity rate is of major concern in a bar that KEEPS EVERY SINGLE BEER THEY SERVE ON ICE!!!!!!!!! Perhaps having a second ice machine brought in would be a wise business investment in an establishment which requires such a large quantity for day to day operation? However, questioning a woman of her astonishing level of raw intelligence would have been absolutey unacceptable so I tiptoed ever so gently on the ice subject. Of course I still used too much or too little depending on her intoxication level.
Last time I checked, it was 2011 right? The age of computers, smart phones, widgets, gadgets and applications to make your life easier ( and your business run smoother?) Well not in this bar... no way...no how... no sir.
The lifeline of this dump... the heart and soul of it's very EXISTENCE... MONEY... is trusted to a 1930's model cash register that belongs on an episode of Antiques Roadshow... lmao.
Handwritten tabs... dash marks to keep a tally on what is served to whom and color coded PINCHE pourers on the liquor bottles to coinside with what button is pushed when and how many times. Neanderthal, outdated, cumbersome and downright ancient. Methods I am sure are due to utter technological IGNORANCE... but hey I can adapt to substandard equipment. That register was ON POINT every single time.
The regulars, (alcoholics,) who frequent the place were well taken care of and that should have mattered somewhat but... not to Bitch Boss. Oh no. Every single bottle of Coors Light ( dug from the bottom of the ice bin every time I served her,) was NEVER cold enough. There was NEVER enough ice in the rocks glasses when I mixed a drink... I didn't restock enough napkins... or I restocked TOO many coasters.. The jukebox wasn't turned up loud enough or I had it too loud... or there was a problem with rock and roll being played before she decided it was an acceptable hour. A sweet and sour container wasn't full enough one day... then the next I was just about to pour out a half ounce or so of pickle juice ( gasp ) thinking it needed to be refilled as well... Common sense just didn't seem to be welcomed nor appreciated because...
Hell no I was way outta line messing with the pickle juice!!!!
( Rolling my eyes at the memory of her overly botoxed face crinkling up in rage over a mere ounce of pickle juice and how she seems to think there is a shortage of it.)
I am not blessed with an extraordinary amount of patience but I wanted to make her happy, do a good job in her eyes and show MY WORK ETHIC AND EFFICIENCY. I realize now I was doomed from the moment the ass kissing, errand running "head" bartender decided she didn't like me. " We're not a catty bar," she said the first day we worked together. Then the regulars liked me... I talked to them like old friends, made money for HER while she sat on her snotty ass smoking on an electronic cigarette while telling anyone who would listen how good she was at giving blowjobs. CLASSY.
Meanwhile I'm told later that day by bitch boss that I dressed like a "nun," despite being dressed in nicer attire than miss good ol blowjob, bleached brain, head bar queen. So the following day I came in wearing a corset style top that made grouchy bar boss bitch look down at her raggedy ass walmart lime green tank top in disgust. She was in full on drill sergeant swing that day and my questions about proper ways of doing things just made her feel like she could talk down to me and again, I dealt with it professionally.
Last shift... no major problems or issues with anything that should have mattered. Head dive queen came in to throw darts with bitch boss and the usual regulars in there hiding from their wives or ethical responsibilities. I worked my shift, register was ON POINT, liquor and beer sales accounted for accurately and job duties completed per Bitch Boss's orders for that particular moment. The next day... the phone rang.
AXED... CUT... CANNED... 86'D... THE BOOT
I was upset for a little while... until I decided the weight of the world truly rests on the shoulders of KARMA. Bitch Boss will get her due process so...
To hell with that dump, the overly botoxed Pickle Juice Hoarder, the Brown Nosing Sidekick, the pickle juice, the underproductive ice machine and TO HELL WITH UNEMPLOYMENT!!!!!
"Hey girl," said the fake voice on the other end of the line. A few more seconds exchanging fraudulent pleasantries back and forth passed before my "boss," ( bitchy bar owner,) informs me she has decided to let me go. No reasons given except it just wasn't "working out." Never mind the fact that I busted my ass trying to please her and keep up with her ever changing policies on ridiculous shit such as when it was ACCEPTABLE to ice down the beer or when it was a MORTAL SIN. Apparently the law of physics concerning ice machines and their productivity rate is of major concern in a bar that KEEPS EVERY SINGLE BEER THEY SERVE ON ICE!!!!!!!!! Perhaps having a second ice machine brought in would be a wise business investment in an establishment which requires such a large quantity for day to day operation? However, questioning a woman of her astonishing level of raw intelligence would have been absolutey unacceptable so I tiptoed ever so gently on the ice subject. Of course I still used too much or too little depending on her intoxication level.
Last time I checked, it was 2011 right? The age of computers, smart phones, widgets, gadgets and applications to make your life easier ( and your business run smoother?) Well not in this bar... no way...no how... no sir.
The lifeline of this dump... the heart and soul of it's very EXISTENCE... MONEY... is trusted to a 1930's model cash register that belongs on an episode of Antiques Roadshow... lmao.
Handwritten tabs... dash marks to keep a tally on what is served to whom and color coded PINCHE pourers on the liquor bottles to coinside with what button is pushed when and how many times. Neanderthal, outdated, cumbersome and downright ancient. Methods I am sure are due to utter technological IGNORANCE... but hey I can adapt to substandard equipment. That register was ON POINT every single time.
The regulars, (alcoholics,) who frequent the place were well taken care of and that should have mattered somewhat but... not to Bitch Boss. Oh no. Every single bottle of Coors Light ( dug from the bottom of the ice bin every time I served her,) was NEVER cold enough. There was NEVER enough ice in the rocks glasses when I mixed a drink... I didn't restock enough napkins... or I restocked TOO many coasters.. The jukebox wasn't turned up loud enough or I had it too loud... or there was a problem with rock and roll being played before she decided it was an acceptable hour. A sweet and sour container wasn't full enough one day... then the next I was just about to pour out a half ounce or so of pickle juice ( gasp ) thinking it needed to be refilled as well... Common sense just didn't seem to be welcomed nor appreciated because...
Hell no I was way outta line messing with the pickle juice!!!!
( Rolling my eyes at the memory of her overly botoxed face crinkling up in rage over a mere ounce of pickle juice and how she seems to think there is a shortage of it.)
I am not blessed with an extraordinary amount of patience but I wanted to make her happy, do a good job in her eyes and show MY WORK ETHIC AND EFFICIENCY. I realize now I was doomed from the moment the ass kissing, errand running "head" bartender decided she didn't like me. " We're not a catty bar," she said the first day we worked together. Then the regulars liked me... I talked to them like old friends, made money for HER while she sat on her snotty ass smoking on an electronic cigarette while telling anyone who would listen how good she was at giving blowjobs. CLASSY.
Meanwhile I'm told later that day by bitch boss that I dressed like a "nun," despite being dressed in nicer attire than miss good ol blowjob, bleached brain, head bar queen. So the following day I came in wearing a corset style top that made grouchy bar boss bitch look down at her raggedy ass walmart lime green tank top in disgust. She was in full on drill sergeant swing that day and my questions about proper ways of doing things just made her feel like she could talk down to me and again, I dealt with it professionally.
Last shift... no major problems or issues with anything that should have mattered. Head dive queen came in to throw darts with bitch boss and the usual regulars in there hiding from their wives or ethical responsibilities. I worked my shift, register was ON POINT, liquor and beer sales accounted for accurately and job duties completed per Bitch Boss's orders for that particular moment. The next day... the phone rang.
AXED... CUT... CANNED... 86'D... THE BOOT
I was upset for a little while... until I decided the weight of the world truly rests on the shoulders of KARMA. Bitch Boss will get her due process so...
To hell with that dump, the overly botoxed Pickle Juice Hoarder, the Brown Nosing Sidekick, the pickle juice, the underproductive ice machine and TO HELL WITH UNEMPLOYMENT!!!!!
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